Let a Woman in Your Life
by Leftywrite
Summary: basically, a witch conjures up Sherlock Holmes into the present day--involving the musical Phantom of the Opera, black clothing, and an eventual murder of Meg Giry. Title taken from My Fair Lady's "I'm an Ordinary Man" which is probably the most Sherlock
1. Overture please

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Sherlock Holmes. That particularly enticing character belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, or according the Beekeeper's Apprentice novels, Sherlock belongs to himself. And this idea just struck me, as the result of listening to the scores of Phantom of the Opera and My Fair Lady (ever listen to " I'm An Ordinary Man " and " Why can't the English? " sung by Rex Harrison? Remarkably Sherlockian sympathies). *@* Means a change of POVs. Anyways, here I go...  
  
~Fic Starts Here~  
  
" Stop! Stop! The chorus! What on EARTH is the chorus doing? "  
  
Yes, indeed, another rehearsal spent listening to an old British director lecturing us on the importance of nice, clean, neat chorus lines. You would think this was a theatre school, instead of one of the most celebrated musicals on Broadway.  
  
Being Christine Daae in the Phantom of the Opera was very tiring sometimes.  
  
" Ack! And what about my Christine! Where is she? Ah! Kristine, where have you been? "  
  
Yes, unfortunately, my own name is pronounced as my character.  
  
" Here, sir. "  
  
" Well, then, what are you waiting for? Start singing so Raoul can fall madly in love with you! "  
  
" Yes, sir. " I straightened up, slipped into the mind of Christine Daae, and started her celebrated aria.  
  
" Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye... "  
  
This was better. I took comfort in the whimsical words.  
  
" Remember me, once in while-please promise me you'll try. "  
  
I paused, waiting for the dialogue held between the two opera directors at that point.  
  
It never came.  
  
" FIRMIN! ANDRE! " screeched Alan, our gentle director. (an: I'm sorry, I couldn't help it ;p)  
  
" Eh? "  
  
" What? "  
  
" Oh bloody hell. We were supposed to say something. "  
  
"Last time, mate, that we drink before a late rehearsal."  
  
" WHAT?! " yelled Alan, " YOU WERE WHAT? "  
  
" We-we- " stuttered George, who played Firmin, " We, we were only drinking WATER.... "  
  
" At least it LOOKED like water, " muttered Basil, who played Andre  
  
" I can't STAND it! " cried Alan, desperately, " I JUST CAN'T STAND IT! END OF REHEARSAL! "  
  
I sighed, pretending to be disappointed, when I was really cheering gleefully. I had been hoping for this. I had certain...things...to accomplish tonight.  
  
Not sex, mind you. Certainly not. Though the Phantom, played by a handsome man named Mark, was quite attractive to me, I had no doubts that a night with him was NOT in order.  
  
Oh, no. Some things were MUCH better than sex.  
  
Witchcraft, for instance.  
  
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AN: Thank you! I LOVE cliffhangers! They make things interesting! Haaaaaave fun reviewing me! (Please do!) 


	2. Love Spell number 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes, because if I did, he would always fall for an Asian girl, and he would actually fall for a girl. Right. *@* Signifies a POV change.  
  
~Fic Starts Here~  
  
I immediately grabbed a cab and rushed home to my flat. There were some things money couldn't buy.  
  
For everything else, magic would have to do.  
  
I dressed myself out of the confining clothes I was wearing and changed into a black cami, black drawstring pants, and put my hair up in a ponytail. I walked over to the pentacle I had ready, grabbed a book from the shelf, and set it right in the middle of the "star".  
  
Lighting the candles that stood on each of the points, I spread an oil circle on my palms, held my arms out and cried:  
  
BY THE POWERS OF ALL THAT IS LIGHT  
  
I COMMAND SOMEONE OF PLIGHT  
  
SHERLOCK HOLMES, SHOW THY FACE  
  
COME TO ME IN THIS MODERN PLACE  
  
AND SHARE MY DAYS AND NIGHTS!  
  
(an: pathetic, I know. Right.)  
  
A great booming noise followed my spell, and a man erupted from my book.  
  
"Watson? Watson? Irene Adler disappeared!"  
  
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AN: Short, bad, and everything else. I know. Please review me tho! 


	3. Well, that was lovely

AN: Sorry I haven't really updated. My life has taken several turns lately. Off-track, un-beaten path and a bit of a strange misconception along the way. No map. I don't like maps.  
  
As Always, *@* is a POV change.  
  
LA—another Phantom "phan"? Awesome. Have you seen the real on-Broadway Version? Fantastic. Hugh Panaro is.........well........sexy..........  
  
Tessa darling, you've never read Sherlock having sex with a woman? How sad. I'm very sorry—however, I'm afraid I can't fulfill your wish at the moment. Fanfiction.net would boot me off—and how would I write? There WILL be plenty of nice snogging, though.  
  
Suzuka Blade, a Sherlock e-plushie? *cuddles it* Thank you so much, darling. It's wonderful. *winks*  
  
~Fic Starts Here~  
  
I would love to say that the moment Sherlock Holmes laid eyes on me, we knew we were one. I would love to say that as soon as we were together in a room, the air was lit on fire with a fierce passion that fought amongst the clouds (an: mwhahaha...anyone ever read Julius Caesar?) in a powerful battle of ardor.  
  
Unfortunately, as soon as Holmes looked up at me, he threw up all over my nice, clean, WHITE carpet.  
  
Oh yes. The great detective strikes again.  
  
Of course, I would have helped him up as soon as he was finished, except for the fact that I never had a chance.  
  
He was out cold—cold as the waters of Reichenbach Falls.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
*@*  
  
What? Girl? Watson? Irene ADLER! Oooooooooooooh.........how revolting.........0o0o0o0oh..............  
  
*black*  
  
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*@*  
  
Well, so much for love at first sight.  
  
Apparently, that was only for the movies and books.  
  
The ironic thing was, well, Sherlock Holmes was supposed to only exist in movies and books. Of course, bringing him to life FROM the book changed things, but you'd think that he'd bring some of that fictionalized goodness with him.  
  
Not that he wasn't masculine goodness—oh no, that part I was VERY satisfied with.  
  
The vomiting and the out-like-a-debutant-on-a-Saturday-night thing, though—not exactly passionate love.  
  
I did a quick cleansing spell (which wasn't really that effective), added some Oxyclean and bleach (which was), and tried to do a levitation enchantment to move Sherlock to my bed.  
  
Unfortunately, my magic was already well-spent from the Ex Libris spell. As my bedroom was several feet away from Holmes's current location, and as he was about a foot bigger, two stone heavier, and a great deal like a sack of stones, I settled for dragging him onto my flat's only couch.  
  
A curse on the gym I went to. A work out was supposed to prevent strain from physical exertion.  
  
I was exhausted.  
  
It seemed that I, too, was a bit too much like a sack of stones.  
  
I collapsed right on top of him, out like the sun after Mount Vesuvius exploded.  
  
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End file.
